Page 87 of Sasha and the Heir


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“Good luck.” Imani hugged me and then watched until I slid into the back of the black sedan.

“Ms. Buck?”

I blinked a few times, realizing the driver was talking to me. “Uh, yes.”

“Would you like the partition up?”

“That would be great. Thank you.”

Once the glass was all the way up, I was able to stew in my anxiety. As we crossed the bridge to East St. Louis, I checked my purse, tracing the edges of the burner and gun with my fingers. All too soon, we stopped in front of a club that had a line of attractive, barely dressed people wrapped around the block.

“Ma’am?”

I jumped, not having noticed that the partition had lowered. “Yes?”

“I’ll be waiting in that parking garage. Just text me, and I’ll pick you up.”

“Great. Thank you.”

Taking my coat off, I left it on the seat. There was no need to carry extra shit. Honestly, my nerves were making me sweat up a storm.

I stepped onto the damp street, the people in line paying zero attention to me as I made the chilly walk past them toward The Velvet Lounge.

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